


as long as the day

by cirrus (themorninglark)



Series: rareprompts [17]
Category: Free!
Genre: Future Fic, Gen, Housemates, POV Second Person, Tokyo - Freeform, multiple POVs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 05:05:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4508904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themorninglark/pseuds/cirrus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't meant to last so long, this arrangement, but six months later, here you are and it's not even <i>Makoto's flat</i> any more. Years of uprooting yourself - learning to live, country to country, out of suitcases - out of dorms and hotels and training camps, and -</p><p>This is where you've found yourself, like some part of you always knew you would.</p>
            </blockquote>





	as long as the day

**Author's Note:**

> For an anon prompter, who asked me for gen MakoHaruRin, sharing a flat in Tokyo. I will never pass up any chance to increase the number of gen MHR works out there. These three give me life, and this was very special for me to write ♥
> 
> I listened to Ellie Goulding's "How Long Will I Love You" when writing this. You can, too, for extra sap feels.

You rise with the morning, while the world sleeps.

This was your childhood, hand in hand with your father. Learning to run, _running_ , sea breeze whipping past your face, all the way to the pier and to the shimmering horizon that welcomed you with whispered words. This is a fisherman's life. _Was._ Breathing in sunlight, sunrise.

You are far from the sea now, but old habits die hard.

You're always the first to wake, tense, muscles tight as a coiled spring. You down a glass of water and go for a run, through the misty chill of Tokyo's pre-dawn streets. _Old habits. Red sky in the morning._ You feel the rain in your bones as you circle the block. It's a dull, dreamy ache, thrumming slowly inside you like an echo; you understand, now, what your father meant, and you are older, but hell if that's going to stop you from taking the steps two by two to get home.

 _Home_.

It wasn't meant to last so long, this arrangement, but six months later, here you are and it's not even _Makoto's flat_ any more. Years of uprooting yourself - learning to live, country to country, out of suitcases - out of dorms and hotels and training camps, and -

This is where you've found yourself, like some part of you always knew you would.

The pinking sky's at your back. It paints the threshold as you open the door. You hear the sound of the bathroom door closing, and you smile; Haru's awake, then. Soon, Makoto will drag himself out of his room, looking like crap, and you'll punch him on the shoulder as he slumps against the kitchen wall, and you'll put on the kettle for all three of you.

You're far from the sea now, but you've learned to let go, let the sea come to you instead. The tides of your life ebb and flow. Some things always wash to shore.

 

* * *

 

There are some things that you don't think about.

There are a lot of things, actually, that you don't think about, because _thinking_ -

Putting things in words, framing them artfully, beautifully, that's what Makoto does; and putting things in theories that make sense when they burst into glorious life, that's Rin.

As for you -

You simply live, day to day, in this world that you've made. That's enough for the you that you are now. Perhaps it's always been that simple.

Out for a walk at the height of noon, you shield your eyes with one hand, narrowing them as you let your footsteps slow outside the grocer's. Kyoho grapes are in season now. So, too, are peaches, and the fruit bowl on the counter is emptying. Makoto likes the grapes. Which does Rin prefer? You're indifferent, either way; Rin's the picky one, and also the one most likely to complain. _What a pain._

Here you are. Back where you started. Rolling your eyes at Rin, making sure Makoto feeds himself - the same, but not the same -

You close your eyes for a moment, because the sun is blinding, and you sink, sink deeper inwards, let yourself go under like you're in the water. Midday is unforgiving.

You think about fruits, and what to have for dinner tonight. You used to make an effort to cook _not-saba_ , when you ate with them; now, all's fair in food and war and communal living.

You don't think about _this_ , because, like the ocean, it's always changing and it's bigger than you and bigger than the three of you, and like the ocean, you will never know its most secret depths.

Yet, being _in_ it is the most natural thing in the world.

So you surrender, and you open your eyes to the light that breaks through the surface.

 

* * *

 

Well, of _course_ you fight over little things. Why wouldn't you? Haru hasn't lived with someone since he was sixteen, and now he has not one but _two_ housemates to deal with, and you, the eternal worrier, saw all this coming.

Rin never did, because he's romantic like that and he thinks sharing a flat with two of his best friends is going to be _great_ , like a slice of life drama, and he knows so many of Haru's habits _anyway_ ; but there are times when you see Rin compulsively tidying up the living room (you're so _used_ to just leaving the newspapers in a messy stack), and there are times when Rin forgets to turn down his music before bed, and times when none of you replenish the milk because you all think someone else is going to and you're _really_ grumpy without milk in your coffee in the morning -

 _times, time after time_ -

Ten years out of high school, you know now how quickly it runs out.

When evening falls and you're washing dishes, the evening breeze cool on your cheek, you hear Rin and Haru argue over whether to watch the news or some B-grade comedy movie with a weird mascot, and you smile.

It's okay, after all, and this is what's surprised you most, after all your anxieties. That it's okay, because if you've got time to pick stupid fights like this, it means - well, you've got time, and it means you never have to ask that question again -

_how long do we have?_

A few stolen hours in transit at the airport, in between flights.

Pre-race minutes to spare before their coach calls, and you watch them disappear once more.

The second your eyes meet when you gaze down from the stands.

_how long do we have?_

You have forever. You have - now.

You're always the last to turn out your lights. They're early sleepers, both your best friends; Rin's always been one, and Haru's kept the habit after his time as an athlete. You're reminded of your differences, when you're up alone at night, and you're reminded, as well, of how much it's never mattered. In the silence of your solitude, you shape your cautious thoughts into a hard-won truth. _This is real. This is now._

Tomorrow, Rin will rise to breathe in the dawn, and start the next day that you share -

together.

 


End file.
